


Complains

by BlanchLemur



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: English is not my native langugae, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I am so sorry, John is a tolerant roommate, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV John Watson, PWP without Porn, Romantic Comedy, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Sex God, Slash, flashfic, human body parts in fridge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlanchLemur/pseuds/BlanchLemur
Summary: Well, John Watson is a very tolerant man and Sherlock Holmes loves his experiments. But why does the fridge have to be full of body parts?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Complains

**Author's Note:**

> Short story I have written for an old challenge in Czech language. I am trying to translate it now.  
> I apologize for typos and mistakes. English isn't my native language. If anyone wants to help with beta reading and corrections, I'd be grateful.

Today's list has exceeded all my expectations. Human eyes, human fingers, human spleen at least according to what I had already been able to compare. This thing in the egg compartment actually looks like human testicles, but I don't think I want to know what it is, and I'll pretend it's just some inconspicuous and harmless waste. Except it's in the fridge.

Fine... This stuff looks like a maw. Probably a piece of rumen or a reticulum. Depending on the size probably from a cow or a very large deer but there aren't many of them running around London, I think. And what I've observed yesterday.   
Great, and this is a piece of hoof? One delicacy next to another, such a typical contents of a common fridge in a normal household, the joy of cooking a hearty dinner when is it offered…  
And this is… What is this?!

"Sherlock?" I shout into the living room.  
I address to my roommate - probably not roommate anymore — who knows who we've been since the last shag in his bedroom which lasted about five minutes and seemed more like a cardinal mess.   
He doesn't even turn away from the computer and just utters a quiet _uhm_ to prove he hears me. The opposite of what he does other times when I'm not here and he speaks to me in my absence. Sometimes I feel invisible.  
"Sherlock, what are these disgustingly bile, viscous and unidentifiable things, which have soiled the entire top shelf of the refrigerator so much, that I'll have to throw away all the cheese that dared to be in the immediate vicinity?"  
Not even a nice tone in my question will force him to lift his head. "Experiment."  
"Do you read to them in the evenings and give them names? Because I swear these things just winked at me and longed for human warmth. And I think they also ate my camembert."  
"Don't talk nonsense, John. They're just embryos in the final stage of decomposition."  
"I'm glad I'm not confused anymore. Now I'm finally going to sleep in peace with the warm thought of them asking for their portion of breakfast in the morning, which I'll probably cook from those week old thumbs."  
"You're too narrowminded."  
"I know. I surprise myself by how terribly intolerant I am of your experiments in our fridge, where normal people store food instead of the remains of human bodies. I should do something with myself."   
I'm calm.   
The fact that our refrigerator is a weapon of mass destruction and I am still calm - it's a remarkable feature that I admire myself for.  
Finally, Sherlock looks up from the monitor and looks at me with his dubious gaze running across my body. "I could help you with that."  
"With what exactly?"  
"I can do something with you. Trust me, I will find a way of distract you. And you'll come up with other thoughts. And when I think about it, I haven't had anything in my mouth for a long time."

***

Well, I should complain more often. I am naked, sweaty, and totally satisfied in his arms. This shag was a far away from the cardinal mess, rather it reached somewhere to cardinal bliss. He did something to me as he promised and he did it very well. He did it three times. Three times very well. Damn it and hallelujah, he can bring malaria, typhus or the marburg virus into our fridge if I feel this way every time.  
And I'll keep pretending I am invisible.


End file.
